Cocktail
by L122yTorch
Summary: On shore leave the captain unknowingly drinks a cocktail that has a certain…affect on him. He's not in danger. Or hurt. But everything he knows - or thinks he knows, is about to change.


The glass was cool and slippery in Kirk's hand. Upon seeing the neon pink drink, he immediately regretted ordering the first thing he saw on the menu. At the moment he didn't really care about what he was consuming, just that it contained alcohol.

The fucking thing practically glowed. He swiveled the leather barstool around, turning his back to the drink that he considered sending back.

The dance floor hummed like a heartbeat on speed. Bodies congealed together in a heady mix that smelled like sweat and alcohol. It wasn't the swankiest place, but Checkov suggested it, so here they were.

A week on shore leave was a blessing, especially after the harrowing month that had just passed.

But Jim put those things out of his mind. Tonight was about drinking and sleeping; not flirting or mingling not dancing or interacting – just spending time in the cherished solitude of an overdue drunken stupor.

Beneath blonde lashes turned blue by the lights, Kirk surveyed the dance floor. It looked exhausting.

Something caught his eye.

Or rather, someone.

Uhura and Spock were on the expansive gyrating platform – the latest song coming to an end. Uhura's back was to Jim and he strained to see his first officer. But in a moment the lights hit him just right and Jim could see that his hands were on Uhura's waist, his lips whispering something into her ear.

An odd feeling broiled in Jim's stomach.

As if sensing an intruding gaze, Spock abruptly brought his deep brown eyes up to meet Jim's. Initially there was lust in the look that lingered from the interaction with Uhura. Then the gaze quickly shifted to intrigue and … perhaps annoyance at being looked in on? With a finishing sliver of realization.

All of this recognition took place in a split hair of a second and just as the occurance reached Jim's brain, he swung back around, embarrassed. He turned around too quickly.

Fuck, I'm so awkward, he chastised himself.

Hastily he lifted the girly looking drink to his lips and poured it down his throat. It was cloyingly sweet and burned something fierce as it ripped it's way to his stomach.

Why was he so damn hot?

He'd had some Romulan ale earlier, but hardly enough to cause this familiar heat that was usually brought on right before drunkenness.

He was embarrassed still, that's why he was hot. And to prove it, his cheeks and neck turned a rich shade of rose.

He hopped off the stool and walked towards the exit, not daring to turn back and look at Spock. He was grateful for the heavy crowd, because he did not sense the Vulcan's heavy gaze on his black leather-clad back.

"Hey, where ya goin?" Leonard asked, reaching a hand out and grabbing Jim just as he was about to reach the door. He didn't even see the doctor as he was attempting the hasty reatreat, if he had, he would have gone a different route.

"I…uh…" he started, interrupted by a sharp wave of adrenaline that flooded his system. It felt like an explosion of endorphins erupting from his stomach. He brought a hand to the area and looked at Bones.

"You okay?" his friend asked, a hand still firmly grasping his bicep. "Yeah, I'm fine," Jim lied convincingly.

Shit, what could he say to get out of this?

"I'm pretty wiped Bones, I'm going to beam back to the ship."

McCoy shook his head as if he had just hallucinated.

"What? Lady killer James T. Kirk retiring early? It's only 11:40 and I've seen at least a dozen women looking you over."

"I'm just not in the mood for company Bones."

But he did want company. Spock's face flashed in his mind.

Woah. Where did that come from?

The country doctor's expression was all scrunched up in disbelief. His mouth hung open, unsure of what to say next.

"Do I need to do an exam on you Jim?"

Kirk could feel a familiar weight on his shoulders. Spock's gaze had found him.

"No Bones. I'm tired. I'll see you tomorrow," he said, breaking free of the grasp and walking out into the cold night air.

Since it was the last night of shore leave, everyone wanted to live it up. But tomorrow they would all shuffle on to the Enterprise with pounding headaches – spending one last day docked before taking off.

The air was humid; it stuck in Jim's lungs. Instinctively he looked up at the night sky, but no stars could be seen. They were obscured by thick storm clouds. He sighed, feeling claustrophobic in the confines of an atmosphere, instead of unbridled in space.

Jim's thoughts were erratic.

He wanted to think of space or shore leave or the past few months, but his brain had tunnel vision, and apparently it was focused on a certain Vulcan.

He had begun to walk down the street, hoping that the familiar movement of a stroll would do him some good. It seemed hard to breathe and his hands were tingling.

For a moment he paused, leaning against a building and bringing his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes.

But when he did, all he could see was Spock and Uhura. The way his elegant fingers spread out on her waist, the hooded look of lust that hung in his eyes before they began to analyze Jim's intrusion.

Then with a shake of vision, like an old fashioned video tape skipping, Uhura was gone, and it was just Spock, standing in a sea of dancing humans and aliens – staring at Jim with that same look of lust.

The music twisted, slow and sultry, and lights danced off the sharp planes of the Vulcan's face. In that moment it was just he and Spock.

He shook his head.

This was nuts!

Jim began to walk again, trying to focus on the clack of his shoes as they hit the concrete, or the discreet whispers and boisterous laughs of the passerby's. It was no use though. His thoughts, his daydreams broke through, and this time, he was walking towards Spock, until he stood a mere inch from his officer's face.

Spock wrapped those nimble fingers around his body, low on his waist and leaned in to whisper in his ear. It felt so real that he could almost feel the heat of Spock's breath on his right ear – it sent a very actual shudder down his spine.

With eyes open he could see the street, reality stretched out in front of him. But these daydreams were intoxicating and continued to run in his head like a movie. It felt so heady and realistic that he wanted more, but the content of said "daydreams" was shaking him.

He and Spock?

He gulped.

The play progressed and Jim turned his head into Spock's. The familiar lips were whispering something in Vulcan to Jim and clearly the next move was to suck on Spock's neck.

This elicited a groan from the Vulcan, whose salty sweet skin was cool and rough. Jim nipped at flesh and wrapped his arms around his friend. Spock's pulled his hips forward to meet his own.

The thumping music drowned out the primal noise that escaped the cage of Jim's mouth. And in the midst of the hoards of people he recklessly rocked his hips into Spock's – where he found a bulge that definitely was not a phaser.

"Fuck Spock," his daydream moaned. Met with the reply: "that is the plan captain."

The words reverberated in his body like a old fashioned bullet gone astray, hitting every vital organ. He felt himself falling.

Pleasure and concern battled in Jim's reality-based consciousness. Those words…the idea of doing…that…with Spock made his blood bubble in anticipation.

He tried to get a hold of himself.

In a moment of clarity he flipped open his communicator and ordered the on-duty tech to beam him aboard the Enterprise.

Hendrickson locked onto Jim's phaser's location, gathered the coordinates and in a breath the captain's body dematerialized.

His atoms re-arranged themselves upon the platform in the transporter room. "Welcome aboard captain," Hendrickson offered. There was an implied 'you're back early,' that went unsaid. Jim just smiled and nodded, stepping off the platform and walking out the white doors that slid open for him.

Once again he grabbed his communicator and this time, hailed Dr. McCoy.

"McCoy here," the device said, working hard to block out the background noise of the club. "Hey Bones," Jim said as he walked towards his quarters. "I need you to tell me what sort of drink I had tonight."

"Why? Are you okay? Where are you?"

"God Bones, I'm fine," Jim huffed. "I'm on the Enterprise and I'm fine. Could you just answer me about the drink and hold off on the questions?"

He could almost hear the gears turning in Bones' head. "Sure," McCoy said. "What was the name of the drink?"

"I don't know," Jim answered, "but it was the first drink on the right side of the menu, and it was like…neon pink."

An eruption of laughter emanated through the communicator. He was laughing so hard that Kirk had to turn down the volume a notch. "Bones!"

"Fine, I'm on it," Bones giggled. You could hear the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. "Give me a minute," he put Jim on hold.

Kirk was nearly to his quarters. The ship was practically empty – just a skeleton crew running maintenance, and most of them were asleep.

In the silence offered by McCoy his mind flashed back to Spock. What it would be like if Spock were following him right now, so close to his back that they nearly touched as they walked down the sterile white corridors.

He was at his door. Finally. For real.

His head didn't miss this opportunity to shove Spock on him.

From behind the Vulcan pressed up against him, flattening his chest to the door that hadn't yet been unlocked.

"Spock…" his daydream croaked. "What are you doing? We're in the open."

"There's no one here captain," Spock's voice returned, more gravel than logic.

His lips followed the line of Jim's neck and he pressed his erection into Jim's ass, his fingers dipping below the waistline of the dark denim jeans Kirk wore.

Jim tried to move but couldn't.

"Spock!" he hissed. "Stop it!"

But the Vulcan knew that he was secretly catching a high from conducting such an illicit act out in the open. The door in front of him was freezing cold and Spock's body was cooler than his. He shivered. Was it from the cold or the contact?

"Is that a direct order captain?" Spock asked, before nipping on Jim's ear.

"Yeah," Jim said breathlessly, craning his head further towards Spock who was sliding his hands into Jim's pants.

His communicator blipped back to life. "Jim, you there?" Bones asked.

Kirk took a few deep breaths, turning around and making sure that he was really alone.

He was.

Clearing his throat he answered "yes. What did you find out?"

Bones chuckled, "well, the drink you had is called Desiree. It's the special of the month, offered only tonight. And it uh…well…"

"Spit it out Bones!"

"It brings forth your deepest desires."

"What?!"

"I said, it brings out your desires! It's banned on at least 20 planets, but it's here! I wonder if I should try it? You know…for a medical perspective."

"No," Jim said, a little too quickly.

"Damn boy, what did it show you?"

Another flush was creeping over the captain and he unlocked his door, walking briskly inside.

"Nothing important," he lied. "Is there any way it can malfunction?"

"The barkeep says it's 99% accurate, but I'll bring some of it back to the ship to study it."

Jim nodded to no one in particular. "Okay. Please advise the crew not to drink it. Kirk out."

"Bu…"

He snapped the device closed before the doctor could get another word in.


End file.
